


Relax

by digthewriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7615720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/pseuds/digthewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingsley/Hermione: In her professional life, Hermione always has to be in control. She's so stressed out and Kingsley knows just what she needs—to let someone else be take charge. And he's a take charge kind of guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relax

It’s been a long and difficult day and Hermione’s finally got a second to catch her breath. She throws her head back and closes her eyes as she settled in her favourite chair in her office. 

There’s a slight knock on the door before it closes and she’s just about getting ready to throw a hex at whoever it is, when she realises that it’s Minister Shacklebolt. 

“I just wanted to check in with you,” he says closing the door behind him. “Don’t worry, I’ve told everyone not to bother you for the next two hours.” 

“Just two hours?” she gripes. Taking a deep breath in and out, she closes her eyes again. She can feel him settling down in front of her, and almost squeals when she feels his hands on her feet. “What are you doing?” she asks in a start, looking at him again. 

His hands are steady, and there’s a magic about them that Hermione could never quite figure out. She’s partially obsessed with them, but she never lets that be known. He slowly removes her shoes and places her feet in her lap. 

As her hands move around her aching heels and then her ankles, she releases a small groan. Embarrassed by this unexpected noise emitting from her, she bites her lip, and he only smiles at her. 

His heated gaze is fixed on her as he massages her feet. She can feel the stress of her day melting away, and a completely different feeling has seized her. “Kinglsey,” she whispers in a way that only _he_ can understand. Only _he_ is allowed to recognise. 

Slowly, he places her feet on the floor again and edges himself closer. He’s pushing her robes above her knees, his hands travelling up her thighs, and she droops into the chair while parting her legs. 

Now, she can _actually_ relax because she knows he’ll take good care of her.


End file.
